I Like Not Being In Reality
by Hatsune-Megan
Summary: Phil is a school outcast, beaten up and teased every other day. But when a strange new boy takes an inetrest in him, will anything change? ...Yeah, I suck at summaries. Rated T just to be safe. SH later on.
1. Chapter 1

**I Like Not Being In Reality.**

Chapter 1

Phil cried out in pain as a taller boy, Jamie, he thought it was, punched him square in the face.

"I thought I told you to be quiet, faggot," he hissed, grabbing him by the collar and spitting in his face.

"Hey Jamie, let me have a go now." Another thug from the background called out. He appeared to be sat with some random slut on his knee, who was sat with her arms above her head holing the bleachers we were all under. Phil didn't mean to be a prude; he liked to think of himself as very un-prude like, actually; but really? This wasn't exactly helped by her shirt (Or tight strip of fabric) which was barely covering her chest. He felt his faith in humanity slowly decrease.

"Oh," Phil thought to himself, "So he was called Jamie. Yay me. "

The new one came walking up, wearing his baseball cap backwards and his trousers so low that he had more underwear on view than pants. Spitting on the ground he cracked his knuckles, preparing to deliver a punch so strong that Phil guessed he'd pass out. "He looked like such a moron," Phil mused. "I bet his mother's proud of him."

Phil closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

A fist connected with his nose, and everything went black.

When Phil awoke, he couldn't see anything. He thought he was dead at first. He felt pricks of cold stabbing him, like a needle of ice penetrating his bruised skin. He winced at the contact, the slightest movement making his entire body ache.

He yelped slightly as he felt someone reaching down and shaking his shoulder slightly. His eyes shot open as he gasped in pain.

"Are you ok?" The stranger asked. He was about 6 foot, tanned and had hazel eyes to match his dark hair.

"Y-yeah, I just, uh, fell over and, uh, bumped my head..." he lied.

"I'm not stupid." He sighed and looked Phil all over. "Do you want me to walk you back home, in case they come back? I'm Dan, by the way. Dan Howell."

Phil blushed slightly. It wasn't really obvious, seeing as his face was bloodied and covered in his own tears anyway, but he felt his cheeks flush and felt immediately self-conscious. "I'm Phil Lester. And if it isn't too much to ask, could you? I don't think I'd be able to walk all that way on my own. Last time I did, I collapsed in this alley and had to get my mate Charlie to come pick me up."

"It's no problem, honestly. All I was gonna do was come back here and listen to my music anyway, it gives me something to do." He said with a slight laugh. Phil couldn't help but notice how cute Dan was; the way he got little dimples whenever he smiled, the way his eyes had a certain sparkle. Even his laugh was cute. "Uh, how're we gonna get you up? I don't want to hurt you again,"

Phil took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'm used to it..." he said, standing up and staggering slightly.

Gasping, Dan ran over and supported him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. This has happened loads and I've been able to sort myself out."

Taking one of Phil's arms and wrapping it around one of his own shoulders, Dan began to slowly walk away with the older boy. "So," he began, a smile in his voice. "You come here often?"

Phil laughed slightly, his mind drifting.

"Hey! You're ignoring me! I know people, and I can tell if one's ignoring me. It happens often enough."

"Sorry, I was somewhere else then for a moment."

He playfully shook his head in mock dismay. "I don't get you daydreamers. I don't see the appeal in pretending something that isn't real is!"

Phil smiled sadly and looked at Dan. "I like not being in reality."

A/N; Wow. That was terrible. Don't shoot me. Just friendly criticize until I can get this bitch perfect. I know it's short, but if this attracts any interest I'll make the next chapters longer. R&R for free freaking Delia Smith cookies!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So, where's your house?" Dan asked, looking around.

"Just a few blocks down, thanks."

The two boys had been talking the full hour it took for them to walk; it turned out they both had a lot in common. They both liked Muse, video games and Adventure Time (The TV show).

"So... Bubblegum or Marceline?" Dan asked Phil with a smirk.

Phil blushed slightly and stuttered. "Uh, well..."

"I'd totally go Marceline, Bubblegum's so annoying. She's almost as bad as Professor Juniper off Pokémon."

"Well, neither, I guess..." Phil wondered how he could put "I'm gay" into words without making him sound creepy, and putting off the only potential friend he'd had in over five years.

"Why- oh. I get it. That's cool, I guess. I'd probably class myself as Bi, but I'm not really sure yet. I mean, I'm only 16, right? I don't need to know yet."

Phil felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Last time he told anyone he was gay, well... He didn't like to think about it.

"Yeah, this is it," He said quietly when they reached his house. "So, uh... See you at school? If that's okay?" He cringed mentally. "Way to sound clingy, Phil," he thought.

Dan grinned; his dimples were so cute, they made Phil blush slightly. He really needed to stop blushing; Dan was going to be able to tell at some point. "Sure! Oh, wait, I have an idea..." he said, rummaging through his bag for something, emerging with a pen and paper. "Here's my number, Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr. Yeah, you probably don't know what half of them are, and you probably won't need all those, but if you ever need to talk, you'll be able to find me on at least one of these."

"Here's mine so you don't think I'm some type of weirdo," Phil replied, simply writing " AmazingPhil" in red biro on Dan's hand.

"Talk to you later!" Dan called after helping Phil to the door and walking away, waving at him over his shoulder.

As soon as he stepped inside, Phil sighed contentedly, feeling like a thirteen year old girl. He couldn't help it. Limping upstairs he ran himself a shower, washing all the blood and tears from his face so he could inspect the damage more clearly. Hopping out and wrapping a towel around his waist and another around his shoulders, he walked into his bedroom, the pains in his leg eased slightly, but not completely gone. Looking into his reflection he sighed as he noticed how his nose had swollen to almost twice its previous size. The rest-the black eye, cuts and bruises- would be able to be concealed with a little of his mother's make-up. This, though... he'd need to think of a good excuse. Deciding to think of a solution later, he slipped into his pyjamas (As it /was/ 9PM already) and opened his laptop. Typing his password in, he sat back and thought about his eventful day, as the soft glow of the screen illuminated the room. So... he'd got beaten up afterschool, then met someone who, in Phil's opinion, was pretty attractive, who'd seemed to show an interest in his life. "This," he concluded, "Has possibly been the best day the year."

Smiling, he logged into Twitter, checking through his mentions where he saw he had gained three new followers. Two of them were people he had followed a while back, the other a now-familiar name.

AmazingPhil hey, this is dan! you know, that weird tall one from earlier? :p if you ever want to chat, dm me, i wont mind:D

danisnotonfire hi! will do, thanks \ (^_^)/ i was just wondering, do you go to the school where you were earlier? never seen you!

AmazingPhil yeah, i'm new. just moved from reading! hope were in the same classes, i don't want to be lonely D:

danisnotonfire what form are you in? they gave me that in the post so yeah :) im in 10LR

Phil sat grinning at his laptop like a lunatic. Not only had he found someone to talk to, he was in the same form as him. He realized how sad it was that a few tweets by some boy he'd met earlier made him smile like Jeff the Killer, but he didn't care. He was just glad that, for once, someone else did.

Jumping slightly as he heard the door creak open, his heart dropped. His mother was home. And he hadn't covered his face yet.

"Phil, honey! I got you a calzone from Pizza Verona down the road, you gonna come get it?"

"I already had tea," he called to his mother from his room. "I'll have it tomorrow."

Hearing footsteps, he gasped slightly. Just as he flicked his hair to cover his face more and turned around to face the wall, his mother walked in. "Are you sure? You'll have to microwave it if you don't want it to be freezing."

Without turning around, he closed his eyes, focusing on not letting his pain show in his voice. "Yeah, mum, I'll be fine." To himself, Phil didn't sound any different, but he wasn't sure. Looking at his mother's slight reflection in his laptop screen, he saw creases of worry across her face.

"I'm sorry I didn't get back 'till late. I promise that after this year, I'll spend more time with you." She walked over to Phil and kissed him on the top of his head, then walking out of the room, oblivious to her son's injuries; both physical and emotional.

Letting out a staggered breath, Phil put his face in his hands, cupping them slightly as to not agitate his injuries. Clicking back onto twitter, he typed out a message to Dan and hit send.

danisnotonfire sorry i didnt reply for ages . yeah, were in the same form! woo! well probably be in quite a few lessons together too ^_^

AmazingPhil I have to go now D: talk to you tomorrow!

Phil closed his eyes and smiled, shutting his laptop.

Finally.

Someone acknowledged the fact that he existed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: ohgodohgodohgod I'M A TERRIBLE PERSON GUYS I'M SORRY. I REALLY HAVE NO EXCUSE THIS TIME. I'M JUST LAZY. This is really shitty too. And short. I'm just not good at life guysss~~**

** But it's the holidays now so I should be able to write more for a week, and it should be better quality because I'll have more time on it. Hopefully. Anyway, enjoy my very very late chapter 3! **

**Also, this is set as if they were teenagers nowadays, instead of when one of them actually was. And they're the same age. Pobably should have said that in Chapter 1 but WHATEVERRR. Yay!**

Chapter Three

It was midnight, and Phil was putting on his mother's make-up. To anyone who didn't know of his current situation, this would be quite funny. But it wasn't.

Dabbing his eyes gently with the foundation-covered sponge, he winced, realizing he pressed down too hard on the bruise. Biting his lip he hissed, not wanting to wake his mother up from the next room. Now all his cuts and bruises were covered, but he was unsure how to cover up his nose, which by now had swollen to over double its earlier size. There was no way he was going to be able to hide this with make-up. What was he supposed to do? Leave for school before his mum woke up, and not come out of his room when he got back?

Hearing his phone buzz from the table, he abandoned his futile attempt at hiding his injuries and picked it up and read the notification from Twitter.

_AmazingPhil can't sleep :( you up?_

_danisnotonfire yeah, i cant either. ill dm you my number, itll be better than twitter :D_

After quickly typing out his number and hitting send, he rushed back to the mirror and tried dabbing his nose with a damp cloth, only hurting himself more. This time, the teen let out a soft whimper at the pain, his nose suddenly feeling like he'd been punched again. Tears began to prick behind his blue eyes as he threw the cloth to the ground, rushing to his bedside draws and opening it, rifling through until he found what he was looking for; a small, blue box with a little latch keeping it secure. Opening it he pulled out what would revolt some but gave Phil an almost comforting feeling; a glimmering razor blade. Playing with it in his fingers he held it up to the light, absently thinking about how pretty they looked in the dim light before bringing it down to his wrist and pressed it down, inhaling slightly. Closing his eyes, he felt free, Free from the bullies, free from his judgmental mother, free from the teachers who always expected more than he could give.. everything. All that was there was the rush of adrenaline, flow of blood down his arm and pain in his hand. Everything else felt minor in comparison. He relished in the fact that nothing mattered for a moment. All that was there was the pain on his wrist and the razor in his fingers. He sliced again and again all over his arms, until they were covered with scratches, all releasing small droplets of blood that began oozing down his arms.

From beside him on the bed his phone vibrated, waking him up from his dream-like state. Picking it up he saw it was Dan, making Phil feel slightly guilty. Although they'd only known each other a few hours, Dan wouldn't want him doing that... would he? No, Phil was overreacting again. Dan wouldn't care. Nobody would ever care. Reading through the text, he smiled to himself.

Hey, it's Dan! Save my number and stuff. I just wanted to say, your blog is awesome! Love it *-* Also, I'm going to the cinemas on Thursday but I don't have anyone to go with, wanna come? xo

Hearing a drip on the floor, her remembered his current predicament and pulled some tissues out of a nearby box and dabbed along his arm, soaking it almost immediately. Holding his arms flat so they wouldn't drip anymore, he walked into his ensuite bathroom and ran them under the taps, wincing as he watched his blood go down the sink. When he thought his arms wouldn't bleed as much, he went back into his room and got his spare bandages out and wrapped them around gently, not wanting to put too much pressure on them and squeeze even more blood out. That probably wasn't even possible, but he didn't want to risk it. He'd created enough of a mess already, getting a little blood on the carpet and on his jeans. His jeans were black so would barely show up anyway, but his carpet was a dark blue, and the crimson really stood out.

Remembering a tip on the internet someone once gave him he crept downstairs and boiled the kettle, pouring it into a small jar which had a few teaspoons of salt in the bottom. Stirring it until all the salt had dissolved into it, he tip-toed back upstairs with the jar of salt-water and a cloth in hand, he opened his door and began dabbing the spot until it was no longer invisible. Pouring the remains down the sink, hoping it'd get rid of the slight red tinge it had, he returned to his phone and began typing a new text to Dan, hoping he could find a new release before his current one took yet another life.


End file.
